When Frank Met Nancy
by tinge38
Summary: This is an AU story where the Hardy brothers and Nancy Drew do not know each other as kids, but meet when Nancy takes a job as a junior investigator with Fenton. There is some F/N.
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: I do not own The Hardy Boys, Nancy Drew or the DJ Delilah. I am just a fan. This story is AU. The Hardy boys and Nancy Drew were not childhood friends. This is a version of their meeting.

Note: I would like to say a special thank you to ariandula for being a wonderful beta reader. She has a talented eye and good sense of character.

When Frank Met Nancy

-The announcement.

_Frank_

I click the shutdown tab on my laptop and glance over at Joe. He looks stunned too. Maybe this is not as bad as I think it is.

"So, Dad hired a junior investigator to give him a hand with cases." No, it doesn't sound any better when I say it out loud.

Joe leans back on the couch beside me. We met at my place for our weekly Skype with Dad to keep him up-to-date on our FBI lives. We had started the session flying high as we had completed a tough missing person case that had been thrown our way. Joe claims it was a type of hazing. I cannot totally discredit the idea.

Joe hops up and starts walking around my small living room/kitchen/dining room. I had not changed it much in the two years since Callie and I broke up. The walls were still yellow with white trim, but now my furniture was a yard sale mismatch. The couch is different shades of brown, the table is a wooden mess that wobbles and the easy chair is not easy to sit in.

He stops and turns toward me. "You don't think Dad is angry we went to the FBI instead of joining the agency, do you?" I can see the guilt in his eyes.

"No. If he had problems with it he would have told us. Besides, he was a police officer before he was an investigator. We're still following in his footsteps." We are just taking a longer way around. I know working for the FBI is right for me, but I worry about Joe. He may have just followed me into it; he's not exactly one for rules.

"Maybe it is all like he said then. He met her while speaking at her graduation from UMD. She helped him with a case. He decided to offer her a job." Joe shrugged. "There's nothing strange about that."

"There is plenty strange. She is strange. I mean, a complete stranger." Are we supposed to trust our father's safety and livelihood to some unknown person? That is not happening. I boot up my laptop. Joe crashes down beside me making the springs on the old speckled brown couch squeak and shake.

"He has probably already run a background check on her," he points out. I know he's right. Dad is not reckless. But still, it wouldn't hurt to take a little look. When he sees me logging into the databases, he laughs. "Call me when you hit anything. I'll make popcorn and hope your microwave doesn't explode."

I barely notice him leave the couch. I have hits on this Nancy Elizabeth Drew much sooner than I thought I would, but I'm not impressed by the first few articles. Anyone can get lucky a time or two. I hit pay dirt when I find a black and white photograph of her. "She's a kid!" I shout. Joe rushes over for a look.

"That's not a kid, Frank" he pats me on my shoulder. "That's a woman. Maybe you should get our more…" He slides down beside me.

I enlarge the photo. "She looks so scrawny, like a strong wind could knock her over." Joe starts reading over my shoulder.

"She is from the windy city, Frank. I don't think that is much of a problem for her." Joe is laughing at me. "Are we a bit jealous of the mighty UMD graduate?"

"That just tells us she's smart," I point out.

"Smarter than you?" Joe chuckles. "Didn't you get rejected from that grad program?" I ignore his pointless taunt and study the photo.

She is tall, I grant you, but very willowy. Her hair is back in some sort of twist and she's wearing a business suit. She is probably trying to look professional, but comes across as doe-like instead. What is she going to do if someone tries to get rough with her? _She_ is supposed to protect my father?

"One good throw would break her in two."

"One good throw would break anyone in two." Joe points out. "How about we take a quick trip home to see the delicate new addition ourselves?"

Why does he get calmer while I get more agitated? Is that a fair division of labor? Joe stretches his arms over his head, reminding me how tired we both are.

"Finally, a good idea." I declare as Joe snorts.

* * *

_Nancy_

Someone is in the office with me.

Fenton left early so he could be home for his sons' visit. I had locked the front door, dimmed down the lights and was at my little desk finishing a summary of some background checks we were doing for a client when I heard footsteps down the hallway. The noise is coming from the direction of Fenton's office. Maybe he forgot something? He would have called to me if he had returned. I turn off my computer screen, kick off my heels and move towards my office door. I am really glad I am wearing practical navy slacks and a white button up. It will make moving quickly and quietly easier. I slip the door open and move towards Fenton's office.

I peek through his doorway first and don't see any intruders. The alarm hasn't gone off, but that does not necessarily mean anything. I move into his office and take a quick look around. Fenton's office is the antithesis of mine. It is spacious and richly decorated with leather chairs and tasteful accessories, thanks to his lovely wife, Laura. The walls feature built-in cherry bookcases and mementos from his days as a police officer. His cherry desk gleams in the dim evening light from his window. His computer still looks off. The plush leather seat is pushed back from his desk. I creep forward to see if his papers have been disturbed. As I begin to move I feel someone coming up behind me. "Ex-"

As a hand touches my shoulder, I grab the arm, shift my weight and throw my intruder over in a classic karate yaritama. Thank you, Sensei! Lying on the green carpet at my feet is a tall, lean man with brown hair and angry brown eyes. He is wearing jeans and a blue t-shirt. Wait-make that oddly familiar and angry brown eyes. I know I have seen this guy somewhere before.

I spin as I hear laughter behind me. In the doorway is another tall man, only with blond hair and blue eyes. His white t-shirt has a red stain on the front and jeans are faded. He doesn't seem to be moving in to back up his friend. In fact, he is holding his sides now and laughing harder.

I shift my gaze to Brown Eyes who is climbing up off the floor. "You're a big help, Joe." His voice is deep and more than little tense.

Wait a minute! "Joe?" I parrot. I know where I have seen them before. Their photos on are Fenton's desk. I just assaulted my boss' sons. I can feel the color creeping up my face. "Oh, boy. That would make you Frank?" I smile weakly at him.

Joe comes forward. "You must be Nancy. Don't mind my brother. A strong wind can knock him over." For some reason this sends him into another fit of laughter.

Brown Eyes is not laughing. Have I been here long enough to collect unemployment?


	2. Chapter 2

Disclaimer: I do not own The Hardy Boys or Nancy Drew. This story is for fun. It is also AU. The Hardy boys and Nancy Drew were not childhood friends here.

Note: I was thinking about the tv show a lot when I was writing this.

The Plan

_Nancy_

"Fenton didn't seem all that upset," I concluded. "But still, would you want to employ the person who assaulted one of your sons?" Bess is laughing on her end of the conference call. There is going to be no help there. Maybe George can see the silver lining. I sink farther into my bed and wait for the ideas to pour forth.

"They should know better than to sneak up on strange women," George points out. "Their father was a police officer. They should have apologized. I don't know why you apologized instead. You were only protecting yourself."

"I like this job. I like working for Fenton. I really really _really_ do not want to be fired. Making amends to my boss might keep that from happening."

I love my new life. I have a cozy little studio apartment over an antique shop. Bess and George helped me paint it a cream color to set off the oak floor and wood trim. Dad gave me Grandmother Drew's walnut sleigh bed and the small white desk from my bedroom. It had taken weeks, but Bess and I found the perfect living room set in a chocolate brown. Bayport reminds me of River Heights. I am just starting to feel at home.

"You should bring cookies tomorrow." Bess' suggestion pulls me back to the conversation. "And wear a dress - the blue one I helped you pick out the last time I was there."

"What? I'm sorry, are we even having the same conversation? Changing into Martha Stewart is going to help how?" George demands. Normally I would break in here and head off the argument, but I have the same questions.

"People love food. Everyone loves cookies. If you feed them first, dealing with them will be easier. Plus, I find that looking your best in any situation is a bonus." Bess' explanation comes in a tone reserved for explaining math problems to children.

George is worked up. "That is the most sexist-"

"What kind of cookies?" I break in.

"Nancy! Tell me you are not seriously considering doing this." I can feel George's disbelief.

"If it keeps me from getting blackballed as that woman who attacks her employer's family, I will be Betty Crocker," I sigh.

"Chocolate chip!" Bess squeals triumphantly.

* * *

_Joe_

Frank and I follow Dad to work the next morning. Okay, it's more like I follow Frank and Dad. It's just bad luck to leave perfectly good donuts sitting around. You never know when you may have to skip lunch in this business. Plus, they were both wearing black three piece suits and I may have gone a bit overboard teasing them about dressing alike at their ages.

As I come through the door I see Dad heading back to his office while Frank is zipping up his laptop case.

"Did you send him ahead to make sure it is safe?" I quip. Wow! That is the scowl of man who has not had enough coffee.

"Ms. Drew is not here yet. Dad says that she usually closes and he opens." Frank adjusts the case strap over his shoulder. "Look, I told Dad we would help him out. I thought it would give us a good chance to check out Ms. Drew."

"Checking her out now, are we? It's about time you got back into the game, Frank. It's just like riding a bike, but not much like it." I smile at his frown. Whatever scathing retort my older brother was about to launch my way stops cold as Nancy "Bruiser" Drew comes gliding through the door.

She is wearing some sort of floaty blue skirt and top which match her eyes. Her hair is pulled back into the same twist and discrete gold jewelry winks under the lights. She has a white plastic bowl tucked neatly under one arm.

"Hello! It is good to see you both this morning. I take it your father is in?" The high pitch of her voice and her determined cheerfulness clues me in on the fact that she is not nearly as calm as she wants us to think.

"He's back in his office." Frank's reply is curiously soft. I look over my shoulder at him to see that he seems entirely focused on Nancy. He doesn't take his eyes off of her. Well, isn't that interesting? There's a pause in the conversation as Frank stares at Nancy while Nancy stares at the bowl.

"What's in the bowl?" It seems the obvious next question to me. Sometimes this detective stuff is not all high level logic problems. I see Frank's eyes jerk down to the bowl as if he is only now noticing it.

"Oh! Cookies. I made some chocolate chip cookies last night and thought I would bring them in. I'll just put them away." She is talking fast and walking faster. As she moves past us, I watch my discrete older brother ogle her. That is something I have not seen in a while. It would be nice if he did more than just look this time. Maybe talking to her would be a good next step for him to take.

"No nuts," I say as I stare at Frank.

Nancy turns around. "Excuse me?"

"Frank's allergic to nuts. I hope they have no nuts," I explain. Frank is glaring at me again. This is too easy.

"No, there are no nuts." She smiles at Frank and quickly turns back around towards Dad's office.

* * *

_Frank_

My brother has been my best friend ever since I can remember having a best friend. I would do anything for him. I would go anywhere for him. However, today I just want him to be anywhere but with me.

"What was that about?" Sometimes the greatest mystery is what is going on in Joe's head.

"You like her." He grins and bounces on the heels of his feet. "You like her. You like her. You like her."

"What is this, middle school? She seems like a very lovely, if somewhat violent, lady." I shift my laptop case over to my other shoulder.

"Maybe that is why you like her. You _like_ like her." Joe wiggles his eyebrows and leans forward towards me. "Are you going to go talk to her? Maybe the two of you could work together today."

"I am going to be doing research into some corporate documents. You will stay out of trouble and work with Drew." I check my watch. "The case is in the early stages so here shouldn't be too much risk. Just look out for her, okay?"

"I would not let anything happen to your future bride, mon capitaine!" Joe snaps me a salute and heads to the coffee machine in the corner. He is unbearable today. I almost feel sorry for Nancy Drew.

_Nancy_

"Sooo, Nancy." Joe's voice has a charming and cajoling lilt to it. I studiously avoid eye contact with him by searching through my purse for my car keys.

"Nannncy?" I can hear the suppressed laughter in his tone.

I know what is coming. He wants to tag along with me to question a suspect. Normally, I don't mind a little help with suspects. Often another person could shift the dynamic of a conversation enough to get more interesting details to slip. But something tells me Joe doesn't shift conversations. He strikes me as the type that sends them whirling. I know Fenton's sons are good investigators, Fenton Hardy would have it no other way. I guess that part of me is reluctant to be put through an audition.

"Yes, Joe?"

I calmly meet his laughing blue eyes. His blond hair and relaxed smile do make him look like a surfer boy. This impression is furthered by his worn jeans, green t-shirt and sneakers. I feel myself smiling back at him. I didn't even realize that I was doing it. It must be nice to have that much charisma. Maybe I should bring him a long. He could crack the case wide open with one toothy grin.

"Watcha doing?" He crosses his arms and leans against the door frame of my small closet/office. George tells me my office is in the hall closet. I like to think of it as having the hall closet in my office. I never have to go far for my coat.

"Why Joseph, I am going to do boring things. Talk with boring people. Routine background work with no thrills what-so-ever." I use a little sing-song voice of my own and arch an eyebrow at him. The charm only gets you so much, mister. I am immune. Mostly immune, I should say.

His smile only gets wider. "Then I should go with you. Dad and Frank left strict orders for me to stay out of trouble. You look like the orderly type." He moves forward to my desk and picks up my neatly typed notes fresh from the printer. "What are we doing?"

"I am going to the Wiltmore Hotel to talk to Dan England's personal assistant, Andrea Gates." Joe's eyebrows rise into his shaggy blond hair. Yep, that's right. Hardy Investigations is working for _the_ Dan England. The same man whose business interests are so extensive he probably makes money off of gravity.

"She's the shy, retiring type. You'd scare her away." My description fit Andrea, if one defined shy and retiring as unflinching, unyielding and humorless. At five foot nothing, almost 200 pounds, with gray hair and green eyes, Ms. Gates reminded me of an army general.

"Wow. Dad is moving up in the world," Joe murmured as he skimmed the background packet I had put together. "England suspects someone is leaking confidential information?"

I don't bother to answer, instead taking advantage of his distraction to slip my lock pick kit into my bag along with a fake id.

"Is Gates a suspect? From what you read in all the magazines, she's his guard dog. No one gets to England without the green light from her. When it comes to executive PAs, she's like Caesar's wife." He pauses and looks up at me. "You have her listed as a suspect."

"Ms. Gates has a sterling professional reputation," I concede. I admire that about her. "She also just lost her mother to a long and lingering illness that left her financially strapped. She is in debt up to her Bluetooth. That would give her a motive for making some extra money. She is privy to all the workings of England's business. That gives her opportunity."

"Privy?" Joe sputters. "Don't try to distract me with your fancy vocabulary. That stuff only scares Frank." I tilt my head try to pull off a haughty look, but my smile ruins the effect. Why is it so hard to be stern with Joe? I haven't known him that long, so I shouldn't cut him so much slack. "I could come with you and help you ask a few questions. Maybe I could look around while you have her occupied?"

I let out a little sigh of defeat. Something tells me Joe Hardy does not hear the word no from many people. It looks like I will not be joining that elite list today. I want to make sure he understands that ND means no dummy.

"When you get to Gates' level of employment, a discrete reputation can be destroyed very quickly. Asking the wrong questions the wrong way could jeopardize her professionally. We will need to be subtle. If you feel an attack of mischief coming on, I expect you to excuse yourself." I level my imitation of Hannah's fiercest glare at him.

"I am the personification of subtle." He drops my notes on my desk and offers me his arm. As I move around my desk, it dawns on me than that I am the personification of sucker.


	3. Chapter 3

Disclaimer: Once again, I do not own The Hardy Boys, Nancy Drew or the DJ Delilah. I still a fan of all three. This story is AU. The Hardy boys and Nancy Drew were not childhood friends. This is a version of their meeting.

Note: This is the last installment. I would like to thank ariandula for being a good sport. Thank you for reading.

The Discoveries.

_Joe_

I watch as Dad pushes back from the dining room table and laughs. His brown hair is thinning some and graying at his temples. I forget how much I miss him when I am away. "I'm glad you approve of her, Joe. Nothing seems to slow Nancy down for long. I knew that she wouldn't have any trouble with questioning Gates."

"I was there too, you know," I point out as I empty the last of the mashed potatoes onto my plate. Nothing beats Mom's cooking.

"For a short time," Frank qualifies from across the table. "Didn't Gates have you removed?"

I shoot Frank a glare. "It was all part of the plan. If I hadn't been ready to ask the tough questions, then Nancy would not have gotten as far as she did."

I had to admire that slick little trick of hers. One moment I was leading the charge in a promising line of questioning about Gates' financial woes, the next I was being led from the room by bodyguards—thugs more like it. Nancy took the opportunity to paint herself as the besieged employee forced to endure the boss' son. It struck a chord with Gates. "You would think they were besties by the end of the conversation. When they came out of the room we had access to all info on England's top people. Plus, if I had not gone to the security office, I would never have had the chance to make that copy of the visitor's log. We wouldn't have known that England's driver spends a lot of time just hanging around."

"So, you didn't hear what Drew and Gates were talking about?" Frank has his thinking face on. Uh-oh. Frank the distrusting his making is nightly appearance.

"Come on, Frank. She's on our side. You're just jealous because she got into UMD's Criminology and Criminal Justice program and you didn't." I can see the color coming into his face.

"Nancy is a charming girl, Frank." Mom moves in to break up the impending argument. Her pale blonde hair shines under the light. Dad may look older, but Mom always looks classy. She also likes keeping the peace. I smirk at Frank as he glares at me.

"She and I make a good team." Ho ho, big brother sure did not like that comment. Frank has never been a smooth one with women. I know I shouldn't poke at him so much so I toss him a bone. "You should work with her tomorrow, Frank. You could see her all up close and in person. Maybe you would learn something." I've got your back, bro!

* * *

_Frank_

I have been in Dad's office countless times over the years. I practically grew up here. But I feel like an intruder when I am standing at Ms. Drew's doorway. She hasn't noticed me yet, completely focused on her computer. Her long delicate fingers fly over the keyboard. Joe is right - she really is pretty.

Don't get me wrong. I know plenty of women in law enforcement and private security and many of them are stunning. But Ms. Drew does not fit the mold. She is stunning too, but my female co-workers have a jaded edge about them that clearly says they are always in control. When one of them makes a threat or levels an accusation, it carries an almost physical presence.

Ms. Drew looks like she just stepped into the room from an afternoon of charity work. Her smart little navy pen stripe suit and gold hoop earrings practically yell "old money." There is a fluid and soft grace in her movements. I think the word soft does it for me. She looks like she would be soft spoken and soft to touch. The kind of soft a guy wants to touch. The kind of soft a guy would want to protect.

"Ah-hem." I clear my throat to get her attention.

"Come on in, Joe." Her eyes are still fixed on the screen. "You had better have kept your word and brought me breakfast after that stunt you pulled yester-" She stops talking as she notices she has the wrong brother in her doorway.

"If Joe left the house with any additional food this morning, I'm afraid it's long gone." I move forward and sit in the client chair across from her desk. "But at least he promised you some sort of make-up gift. All I ever get is 'Next time, bro. It'll all work next time.'" She smiles a bit shyly at that. "I thought I would work with you today. Give you a little break from the reckless Hardy. What are you up to today, Ms. Drew?" I ask, because I really want to know.

"Please, call me Nancy. I think the first order of business is for me to eat a little crow for breakfast." I see her straighten her shoulders and look me in the eyes like a brave little sailor. "I want to apologize again for what happened the other night-"

I cut her off with a wave of my hand. "I should have known better than to sneak up on you. There was no harm done. You handled yourself very well." She did. My little socialite knows karate. I look into her big blue eyes. They are the color of spring sky.

"Call me Frank." I blurt out. The reason behind my lack of a social life is pretty obvious. I have faced down hardened criminals, but I still sound like I don't have two brain cells to rub together when I talk to a woman. "Please Nancy, call me Frank." I babble. It is ridiculously easy to call her by her first name. At least she is smiling again.

"Okay," she sighs and pauses for a moment. "I decided to have another look at those visitor logs Joe photocopied. It is pretty strange that Murphy Randall, England's driver, is spending more time just hanging around the office, but that doesn't necessarily mean he's our leak." She begins to lay the photocopied pages across her desk.

"Or even that he is the only possible member of the staff spending increased time at the hotel," I add. "I had the same idea last night. I created a spread sheet cross referencing the visitors to the time frame of missing information." I pull a jump drive out of my pocket and hand it to her. After a few minutes my night's work appears on the screen. "While Randall was there for some of the times, he was not there for others. That could mean we are dealing with more than one person or that he is not our guy. But we still need to account for the increased amount of time that he's been spending at the hotel." I didn't have enough information to rule out the accomplice bit. Nancy is looking at me like I just discovered gold.

"That is brilliant. This really sets us ahead." She is smiling at me now. It is a few moments before I can even swallow.

"Why, ah, why is England staying at the hotel? Doesn't he have a place here in town?" I can make it through the conversation without looking like a flake if I stay focused on the case.

"Everyone under the sun knocks on his doors. He thought the shift in location would help him control who visits and make the leak all the more obvious." She sighs and shakes her head. "For all the good it does. So far, he has made no attempt to limit the visitors and still has his regular staff coming in to serve him in his rooms." I cock a questioning eyebrow at her. "It turns out Mr. England has very delicate allergies and particular levels of cleanliness have to be observed at all times. He also follows a severely restricted diet. So his entire cooking staff has been running in and out of his penthouse suite." She shrugs.

"Let's start with what we have." I suggest. "We can talk to the driver and see why he's hanging around the rooms and who else is always present." I stand up and wait as she grabs my jump drive and shuts down her computer. I hold the door as she walks through.

She give me a smile over her shoulder as she declares, "I'm driving, Hardy."

* * *

_Nancy_

Frank Hardy may be the king of mixed signals, but he has a crack interrogation technique. I started questioning Mr. Randall with a few easy questions to put him at ease. Frank cut in with an austere demeanor that was almost chilling. Randall looked like he had been set before a firing squad. A few minutes later I had learned that Mr. Randall was sweet on Andrea Gates and was hoping to catch her eye. I also learned that I would probably crumble if Agent Frank Hardy questioned me as well. I can see how he and Joe make a good team. Joe would come off as the approachable friend while Frank would be all "just the facts."

Over lunch we decided to get a look in England's suite without any staff around. That's when we started having problems. Getting uniforms for the hotel's housekeeping staff had been easy. Thanks to dropping Fenton's name, I even managed to get a master key card from the manager. That brings us to our present situation. We are on the same floor as England's rooms. Unfortunately, England is using his personal housekeeping staff. They are heading down the hall before us and entering his rooms, so we turn down a side hall to observe them.

"It's not like we can ask to come in and borrow a cup of cleaner," Frank grumbles. He looks cute and slightly wrinkled in his uniform. His hair is too perfect for the look, making me want to run my fingers through it and rumple him a bit.

To keep my itchy palms busy, I rifle through the cleaning cart for something to cause a distraction to get us into the rooms. Bed sheets and toilet paper are not going to be much help here.

"They're leaving," Frank hisses and begins moving the cart down the hall to a room with a "housekeeping requested" sign hanging on the knob.

"That is way too soon," I whisper as I run after him. "They should have been in there for no less than 40 minutes for a light cleaning according to the list that Gates has. Unless …"

"They weren't in there to clean the room," Frank finishes for me. "We need to get a look at that cart before they get on the service elevator." In a precision move, Frank whirls the cart around and is barreling down the hallway in their direction.

"I told you to grab more bathroom cleaner before we came all the way up here," I huff at him in a loud and irritated voice. "Now we have to go all the way back."

"I wouldn't have forgotten if you had done what you were supposed to do instead of making eyes at that bellhop. I can't do my work and yours as well," He snaps back at me. As we near the elevator I see England's cleaning crew comprised of two men in black slacks and grey tunic coats with DE embroidered in gold thread the shoulders. One is about my age, with dark hair and pale skin. The other is an older fellow with sandy hair.

Frank and I continue to argue about my cow eyes and his inability to follow simple commands as we crash our cart into theirs. Towels are flying everywhere.

"I am so sorry!" I gasp as I gather towels. The sandy haired man jerks the towels out of my hands.

"We'll get them. Just get out of here," He snarls at me. I jump backwards and bump into the dark haired one. Frank ducks down for a minute and reappears beside me.

"No problem." Frank grabs the cart and my arm. We back down the hall. "We'll wait for the next one."

We round the corner when Frank motions to the stairwell exit at the end of the hall. We both run when the shouts start from behind us.

As we slam through the door, I yell to Frank, "What did you find?"

"Camera!" Frank shouts back to me. I hear the door slam open again as we duck onto another floor. I race down the hall ahead of Frank when I get an idea. I pull out the master key card and frantically begin to work on a door with a housekeeping sign hanging from it. I get it open just as I hear them coming through the stairwell door.

Frank and I duck inside and quietly close and lock the door after us. I am pressed between the door and Frank as we both listen for footsteps in the hall. I am trying to listen. Frank's cologne is spicy and distracting. He's trying to move me a bit to the side so that if the door was kicked in, he would take the brunt of the impact. I wiggle back to my original position and press my ear to the door. I can feel his chest against my back. Normally, I am not one for having my personal space invaded. Oddly, having Frank at my back doesn't bother me. I feel … safe. After a few minutes Frank slides around in front of me and gives me the thumbs up sign. We cautiously open the door and peek out.

"That was quick thinking. Teach you that at UMD, did they?" He smiles at me.

* * *

_Frank_

Joe and I put our bags in the trunk of his car and turn to hug Mom goodbye. "Drive safely." She commands, "Call us when you get home. Your father worries." She winks at Dad.

Dad moves in to hug us too. "Your mother worries" he mumbles. He closes the trunk of the car and turns back to us. "So did Nancy pass the test?" His grin is going to split his face into.

Joe scratches his chin like he is thinking. "I think Frank wants to keep her." He smirks at me. I can feel my face getting red.

Nancy and I found pictures of the insider info on the camera we snatched from the cleaners. This little victory has put Hardy Investigations in the cat-bird seat. I have to admit Drew handles herself well under pressure.

"Can I trade Joe in?" I ask. I fish the car keys out of my pocket. Dad laughs walks back to the house. He stops beside Mom to watch us from the front porch.

I climb into the driver's seat while Joe takes command of the radio. "I wonder if 'Love Songs and Dedications' is on." He grins.

My phone chimes telling me I have a text message. I pull it out and look: "C U nxt time Hrdy. We make a good team. Drive safe—ND."

"I don't need Delilah." I declare as I put the car in gear.

The End.


End file.
